


Another Way

by stunrunner



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Homestuck
Genre: Death, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-21
Updated: 2014-09-21
Packaged: 2018-02-18 04:35:50
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2335556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stunrunner/pseuds/stunrunner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dirk and Nepeta form an unexpected friendship at Hogwarts... which takes a just-as-unexpected turn.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Another Way

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mahwaha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mahwaha/gifts).



“HUFFLEPUFF!” the Sorting Hat cried. The Great Hall came back into view as its brim rose back over Nepeta's eyes, and she beamed as she bounded over to the table decorated in accents of yellow and black. The too-long sleeves of her robe flopped over her hand as she waved to her sister Meulin further up the table, sitting with her fellow seventh-years and with as wide a grin as Nepeta.

She ignored the handful of snickers and smirks from students in the other three houses. Meulin had already talked to her about it—the sorting was hardly a surprise, since nearly their entire family had been Hufflepuffs as long as they'd been wizards. _Some of them will think it means you're not brave, or smart, or ambitious_ , she'd said, _but being a Hufflepuff just means you aren't only ONE of those. It's a good thing._ Nepeta squeezed into an empty spot on the bench between two other first years, who greeted her with broad smiles and congratulatory pats on the back.

“Hiya,” the blonde on her right whispered as Jonathan Lewin sat on the stool, clutching its sides hard enough to turn his knuckles white while the Sorting Hat squirmed gently in deliberation upon his brow. “My name's Roxy.” She grabbed Nepeta in a quick side hug. “I'm so glad I got sorted here. I dunno much about the other houses, but they kinda seem like jerks. I've only been here ten minutes—Lalonde, so I was just before you—and everyone is already so nice.”

Nepeta didn't hesitate in returning the hug with a chuckle. “They're not so bad. But I'm glad too; my sister's in Hufflepuff. Oh, and I'm Nepeta.”

“That's such a pretty name! So, what classes are you most excited for? I'm pumped for Charms 'cause it looks like we get to learn the silly little tricks from every movie I've ever seen with magic in it. Not like some of my other classes; I don't even know what Transfiguration means.”

The two girls chatted quietly (a little quieter after getting shushed by a prefect) about their classes. Every now and then Nepeta had to ask the Muggleborn about a technology or pop culture reference, but they were more on the same page than she had expected. Apparently Meulin was telling the truth when she said Mom and Dad were less removed from the Muggle world than most purebloods.

Roxy was halfway through an explanation about the rules of some Muggle sport when she suddenly stopped dead. “Holy anime, what the heck is up with that kid's hair?”

Nepeta followed her gaze to the front of the room, where a gangly young boy was striding with plainly exaggerated coolness to the stool. His blonde hair stuck out from his head in sharp, jagged tufts that had very clearly been arranged for a precise artistic effect, though the desirability of that effect was lost on Nepeta.

The boy slouched and swung his arms overly casually as he walked up to Professor McGonagall and sat on the stool, lounging like he couldn't care less about the whole thing. Nepeta didn't buy it. He could control the arc of his step and the slump of his shoulders, but he couldn't completely mask the hint of anxiety tightening the skin around his piercingly blue eyes.

The Sorting Hat just barely grazed those razor points of hair before it shrieked, “SLYTHERIN!” The boy closed his eyes and sagged a little, but when he opened them and strode over to the green table, there was a lightness in his step that spoke of relief.

“Huh,” Roxy mused. “He looks awfully pleased to be in the gross racist traitor house.”

“It's more complicated than that,” Nepeta said absently, her attention still on the boy as he took a seat with the other Slytherins. “Did you catch his name?”

“Yeah, something weird, started with a D I think... Oh! Dirk.”

***

The puzzling boy with the spiky hair vanished from her mind for the next few days. Nepeta had spent years poring over her sister's textbooks, watching her grow smaller and smaller in the window of the departing Hogwarts Express each September, and counting down the days until she would be allowed to enter that world of endless possibility and wonder. Now that she was finally here, it was everything she'd imagined and more. Some of the other purebloods affected an air of being above it all, so used to magic that formal schooling was more of a chore than anything else. But if others missed it, she still caught the brief flash of delight across their faces when their charm worked or their potion simmered with just the right hue of turquoise. Granted, such things were rare on the first three days—Nepeta was one of very few who managed to raise her feather even a few inches, tongue sticking out of the corner of her mouth as she focused intently on reproducing that particular flick of the wrist—but no one was immune to the sheer exhilaration of actually being able to practice magic, _real_ magic, for the first time in their lives.

She didn't notice Dirk again until Wednesday afternoon, when the first years huddled in small groups on the flat green near the Herbology classrooms. Nepeta was chatting excitedly with a few other Hufflepuffs about the student who, earlier that day, had eaten some sheepstongue root thinking it was dittany and been sent to the hospital with a ghastly-looking rash on top of the minor bleeding that had caused him to seek out the healing herb. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a flash of green and black suddenly appearing on the training grounds. Her classmates' chatter faded to the background as she turned and saw Dirk standing by himself, on the other side of the grass from even the other Slytherins. He jammed his hands into the pockets of his robes and made such an effort to look bored that he couldn't have telegraphed his study of his classmates better to Nepeta if he'd tried. His hair was just as perfectly shaped as when he'd been sorted. She wondered if he used spells or regular Muggle gels and sprays to hold it in that absurd configuration. Probably spells—a Slytherin pureblood wouldn't be caught dead using Muggle methods.

A whistle blew from the other side of the training grounds, and a sprightly witch with short gray hair and piercing yellow-golden eyes strode over to the group. “First years!” she called out. “Line up at the brooms!”

The students obediently shuffled into two lines, each positioned beside a school-issue broom with sparse bristles all crooked and broken. In the hurried scuttling, Nepeta managed to position herself next to Dirk.

“Hi!” she whispered while Madam Hooch explained to the rest how to mount the broom. Nepeta ignored her; she had been playing on toy brooms since she was able to walk. “My name's Nepeta. You're Dirk, right?”

Dirk paused with his hand over his broom. His calculating blue eyes took her in, put her on a scale and weighed her, missed no minute detail as they flicked over her unruly hair and too-long sleeves. And yet, for all that assessment, when he finished he seemed no more sure of her than a moment ago. “Yes,” he said warily. His broom snapped up to his hand. “And you are?”

“Nepeta. I like your hair. What spell do you use to get it like that?”

He paused again, plainly uncertain if she was poking fun, but her guileless gaze and sincere smile dragged out the response, “Sticking Charm.”

“That must be a pain in the butt.”

A ghost of a smile flicked across his face so quickly it could have just been her imagination. “It is,” he admitted.

They mounted their brooms and waited for Madam Hooch's whistle. Nepeta leaned over. “Race you to that tower?” she asked, nodding her head towards a peak in the stone wall.

Dirk's eyes flashed as she'd known they would; he couldn't turn down a competition, especially in an area he thought he excelled. “You're on.”

Both of them whizzed away at lightning speed—or at least, as close as they could manage on the rickety school brooms. They wove through the air, one taking the lead for a moment only to fall behind when the other pulled ahead in a graceful flipping maneuver. When they finally returned, they tumbled back down to the grass so close to each other that they spent the rest of the period (after getting chastised by Madam Hooch) arguing over who had won.

“Well even if you DID win,” Nepeta said with a grin, “your hair looks ridiculous. More than usual, I mean.”

Dirk felt at his hair, where the wind had shredded most of the sticking charm and left his blond locks in a peculiar mixture of sharp angles and curling ringlets. His cheeks reddened faintly under the faint smattering of freckles. “Guess so.”

“Hmm,” Nepeta mused. She poked one of the straight parts with her wand, gently probing at the enchantment. “I bet we could come up with a better charm for this. Wanna go to the library after class?”

Dirk blinked, and Nepeta was getting to realize that a blink from Dirk was like another boy goggling in open-mouthed surprised. “Sure, that... that sounds like fun.”

***

Nepeta kicked her feet idly from where she sat on top of her heavy trunk, her robe swishing around her legs. “I can't believe it's already summer again,” she complained to Dirk, who leaned against the wall of the station in his odd Muggle clothes. She threw an arm around his waist in a clumsy side hug. “I'm going to miss you.”

Dirk absently ruffled her hair with the hand that wasn't shoved into a pocket. “I'll miss you too, Nep, but it's only a few months. Plus, it'll be good to see your family again, right?”

Nepeta heaved a melodramatic sigh. “I guess. I should probably enjoy a vacation while I can, too. I hear they _crush_ fourth years with work to prep us for O.W.L.s. What are your electives, again?”

“Arithmancy and Muggle Studies.”

“Muggle Studies?” She made a face. “Isn't that basically cheating, for you?”

She wished she could take the words back when Dirk shifted uncomfortably. “Not really. I mean, Bro was basically raised by Muggles, but by the time he was raising me, we might as well have been a regular wizard family. Anyway, I think the Arithmancy might actually be able to work with Muggle programming and robotics—you know, the metal homunculi?—and getting a proper wizard perspective on Muggle tech might help.”

“Oh, sounds neat. I guess even if it doesn't, there are worse things than an easy A.”

He poked her in a ticklish spot on her side. “Hey, you're one to talk, Miss Care Of Magical Creatures.”

“It's not my fault they like me!” she giggled, before sighing. “Here comes the train.”

The Hogwarts Expressed belched huge plumes of black smoke as it chugged into the station. “Your brother's coming to get you, right?” Nepeta asked.

Dirk nodded. “Easier from here than London.”

She scooped his whole gangly length into a big hug, pressing her cheek into his chest. “Take care of yourself then! Write me all the time!”

Dirk squeezed back as best he could, letting the corners of his mouth quirk upward just a little. “Don't I always?”

She watched him waving on the platform until he dwindled into a speck, then squirmed on the seat to find a comfortable position for a little catnap on the long journey home.

***

Nepeta chewed anxiously on the end of her quill as she idly sketched on the train. The tunnel they'd just gone through meant they'd be arriving at Hogsmeade Station soon, reuniting for the school year. Meant that she would be reuniting with Dirk.

She hoped.

A few weeks into the summer, his owl had stopped showing up at her window. She wrote him letter after letter with no response, going from irritated to concerned to worried, until halfway through the summer when a single terse missive without salutation or signature said only that he had something to take care of and wouldn't be in touch for a while. The writing was jagged and sloppy, with huge careless blots and impatient smears. In short, not much like his usual penmanship at all.

The train came to a stop, and the students stretched and heaved down their heavy suitcases and bulky owl cages before shuffling en masse onto the platform. Nepeta jumped a few times, scanning over the crowd for those sharp, blonde points. Dirk always met her at the station so they could walk up to the castle together before splitting to their house tables for the Sorting.

Well, he always _had_.

It wasn't until she was seated with her fellow Hufflepuffs that she saw him across the room. Despite his distinctive hairstyle, she almost didn't recognize him. Of course, he was taller, and it looked like he'd grown into that height a little more with a broadening of the shoulders and a thickening of muscle on his still-lithe frame. But he wore a pair of dark, angular sunglasses that completely hid his eyes from view, and the set of his features... Nepeta was used to having to look for his little tells—a slight crinkle around the eye, a tensing of the jaw. Dirk's face now wasn't so much masking an expression as completely expressionless, a face carved from stone by an inhuman sculptor. She barely heard any of the Sorting Hat's song, and applauded mechanically at each first year's house assignment while her eyes kept darting back to Dirk as she wondered, _What happened to you, Dirk?/= ___

__When the Sorting was finished, Nepeta pushed her way through the crowd until she caught at Dirk's arm. He jerked violently at her touch, half bringing up his wand before he registered who it was. “Oh. Hello, Nepeta.”_ _

__“Hi.” She reached around to give him a hug, but he tensed under her embrace and leaned away. Nepeta let go and looked up at him, hurt and confused. “What's wrong?” she asked, reaching towards those ridiculous sunglasses so she could see his eyes._ _

__His hand darted up and seized her wrist with a pressure bordering on painful. “Don't,” he breathed as the crowd streamed around them, largely oblivious to this small drama._ _

__Anger flared in Nepeta's chest, and she threw a quick jab into his gut as if they were sparring, tearing her arm loose in his moment of surprise. “What the _hell_ , Strider?” she asked, jabbing a finger into his chest. “You go incommunicado for weeks, almost months, and now you act like we barely know each other.”_ _

__His stony expression didn't change, save for a furrow of his brow that was smoothed within an instant. “I had things to take care of.”_ _

__“What things? I'm not trying to be a jerk here, Dirk, but you have to let me in a little.”_ _

__She could tell as the words left her mouth that they were the wrong thing to say. “It's best if I don't,” he said quietly. “Goodnight, Nepeta.”_ _

__He strode off with the other Slytherins before she could reply._ _

__***_ _

__Fourth year classes were just as grueling as she had expected. She saw Dirk in her Defense Against the Dark Arts and Charms classes, but he always came in at the very last minute and sat in the back of the room. When class ended, he was gone before she'd even fully risen out of her seat._ _

__Dirk dodged her for weeks. Once, Nepeta waited outside the entrance to the Slytherin common room for hours, trying to catch him on his way to his Muggle Studies class, but he never emerged. Eventually she had to leave for Divination; as she walked away, she thought she could feel eyes on her back._ _

__The cat-and-mouse game played until finally she realized Dirk was never going to voluntarily confront her. Nepeta decided to compose a message and send it by owl—if he didn't respond, fine, but she figured their friendship deserved a last chance._ _

___Dirk,_ _ _

___I know you've been avoiding me, though I don't know why. You must think you have a good reason, but whatever it is, you don't have to be alone. You don't have to deal with... whatever this is by yourself. I'll be out by the lake Thursday after Transfiguration. Please come talk to me?_ _ _

___Love,  
Nepeta_ _ _

__***_ _

__Nepeta almost thought he wasn't going to come. She had put her journal back into her bag and was twisting to rise off of the grass when she was suddenly face to face with Dirk._ _

__“Oh. Hi.”_ _

__“Hi.” He hadn't changed since the Sorting, still rock-hard behind those opaque shades._ _

__She gestured. “Let's sit.”_ _

__They lowered themselves to the soft grass and just sat for a moment, being in each others' company while the wind shook a papery rustle from the orange-red leaves. The afternoon sunlight slanted across the lake. Nepeta chanced a glance at Dirk from the corner of her eye and saw how his golden hair picked up the warm highlights in the setting sun. The shades were still midnight black, completely impenetrable._ _

__Nepeta inched her hand slowly towards Dirk's. He flinched a little when she made contact, her pinky gently running over his thumb. But as she slowly advanced her fingers, Dirk's hand slid slowly into hers, until eventually as their index fingers overlapped, he broke and clasped her hand tightly, pulling her toward him until they touched shoulders, still gazing out at the lake._ _

__“Dirk,” she whispered. “What happened?”_ _

__“I...” He trailed off, staring at the water._ _

__Nepeta scooted closer, transferring his hand into her left so she could put an arm around him. “It's ok,” she said. “You can tell me.”_ _

__“I can't,” he whispered. “You'll think I'm a monster.”_ _

__She kissed the side of his head. “I could never think such a thing. So... What happened?”_ _

__Dirk hesitated. She could feel the tension running through his shoulder, down his arm to his hand. “You have to promise you won't tell anyone.”_ _

__“I promise,” she said without hesitation._ _

__Dirk sighed. She felt his weight lean a little more against her. “It started with my brother,” he intoned mechanically. “I stopped writing to you because... because he died. Was murdered.” He swallowed. “Some kind of Death Eater thing. I don't know why he was important enough that they had to... well, it doesn't matter. They did.”_ _

__Tears budded in Nepeta's eyes. She tried to discreetly wipe them away on the left shoulder of her robe, but she knew Dirk noticed anyway. “That's awful,” she said. “So who—”_ _

__“No one,” he interrupted. “I mean, he wasn't a specific target. Wrong time, wrong place. You know.”_ _

__She didn't, but she nodded anyway. “So—”_ _

__“And it was just eating me up,” he continued over her, “that he was—” he choked a little, took a moment to compose himself “—that he was dead, and those fucking monsters who killed him, that one monster in particular, he was alive.”_ _

__Nepeta nodded, and worked her fingers into Dirk's hair in a soothing scalp massage, one she knew wouldn't disturb the Stasis Charm too much. “So what did you do?” she asked._ _

__Dirk took a long moment to enjoy the massage. His stony expression softened slightly into a slack contentment. “You'll hate me,” he murmured while her fingers worked._ _

__Nepeta shook her head. “Did you kill the fucker?” she asked with deliberate venom. “God knows I would've. He deserved it. You're not to blame.”_ _

__But before she finished the sentence, Dirk was shaking his head and, oddly, smiling. “I wish I had,” he whispered._ _

__A cold pit formed in Nepeta's stomach. “Dirk,” she said quietly, “what did you do?”_ _

__Wordlessly, Dirk handed a wand to Nepeta. She hesitated before taking it; this wasn't his. Dirk's was longer, made of a smoother and lighter wood. This wand was dark, knotty, and blunt._ _

__As soon as her hand grasped it, she felt a sort of... presence. Most wands had a _feel_ about them, a residual echo of their owner. But Nepeta knew Dirk, and knew this wasn't his wand, and the feel was a peculiar resonance, one that felt simultaneously like and not like Dirk. Nepeta swished it in the air experimentally. The wand seemed to invite engagement, somehow, to want to talk to her, as ridiculous as that seemed. Nepeta scooched forward in the grass a little ways from Dirk, hoping it would make her feel slightly less ridiculous, and asked the air—but really the wand—“...Hello?”_ _

___Hello,_ a voice said into her ear. She jumped back into Dirk's leg in alarm, but Dirk seemed busy crouching into a ball and trying his best not to engage in what was happening here. _ _

__Nepeta shook her head, hoping to clear it, but in the end she was left with the same knobby wand in her hand and balled-up teen by her side. She flicked the wand experimentally; a few sparks flew out of it in some lovely patterns._ _

__She tried focusing her thoughts, rather than her spoken words—the wand should, theoretically, be able to interpret both. _Hello,_ she thought with deep concentration. _My name's Nepeta. What are you?__ _

__There was a brief pause, and a flash of disbelief passed through Nepeta's mind as fast as it was forgotten._ _

___Call me Answering Rod. AR, if you're prone to abbreviations._ _ _

__Nepeta hesitated. That... hadn't answered her question. _Sorry, AR, that tells me WHO are you but I still need to know, WHAT are you?__ _

__This answer came quicker. _I'm a Horcrux—a part of Dirk's soul that he separated when he—“__ _

__Nepeta dropped the wand like she'd been burned. She looked at Dirk. “You didn't,” she whispered. “You _couldn't._ ”_ _

__Slowly, Dirk reached up to his glasses. With agonizing deliberateness, he pulled them off. Nepeta gasped when she saw the bright orange of his irises._ _

__“Dirk, what...” Nepeta couldn't finish the question, staring into those unnatural tangerine eyes._ _

__Dirk met her stare, though she could see the flinch in his shoulders that belied the stony lack of expression in his face. “A Death Eater killed my brother,” he said while meeting her gaze. She wanted to look away, but the pain in his eyes held her gaze. “So I killed him, and...” He trailed off, gesturing towards the wand. “It was his. I couldn't...”_ _

___A wise choice,_ the wand flicked out from Nepeta's hand. _How better could you use your brother's murder than—__ _

__Nepeta threw the wand to the ground. She met Dirk's gaze, and for a second, he seemed grateful. But before long, he picked up the wand, and turned to go. “I have...some things to take care of,” he said._ _

__“Do you,” Nepeta asked, “or does HE?”_ _

__Dirk paused for a moment, then chucked, a low, rustling sound that grated unnaturally against her ears. “Does it really matter?” he asked._ _

__Nepeta didn't answer._ _


End file.
